


Over The Line

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Camping, Car Trouble, Feelings Realization, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Rain, Thunder and Lightning, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vacation, motel sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank invites Connor on a camping trip. Connor's not keen on the idea of roughing it, but he won't pass up any opportunity to spend time with Hank, even though he's not sure why that is...
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 121





	Over The Line

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Trans Connor, the words used are slit and hole.

"So much for plans, eh, Connor?" Hank folded his arms in the driver's seat as heavy rain pelted against the windshield. "Goddamn car breaks down, and then all hell breaks loose with the weather." He seemed angry, but his heart wasn't in it. Instead, it was exhaustion and defeat written across the wrinkles in Hank's forehead, the result of many years fighting and losing against his own shitty luck. "I checked the weather. I went over the car before we left. It's always like this. Every fuckin' time I try to do somethin' nice. The universe has it in for me, I swear to God." 

Connor didn't know what to say when Hank was like this. It was one thing to deal with his frustration at work, but he couldn't comprehend why Hank was so annoyed about a camping trip. Connor thought it was an odd idea to do without the conveniences of modern technology and a warm home as a means of vacationing, but it wasn't his discomfort Hank was risking.

_"You'll understand it when we're out there,"_ Hank had said, pitching the idea to Connor like it was the breakthrough on a big case. _"You'll have no choice but to bow to the majesty of nature."_

The majesty of nature indeed. Connor's internal weather report had warned him of heavy rain, but Hank had insisted he'd checked the forecast multiple times and all was well. As if he could will the clouds away with the power of wishful thinking. Hank could be absurdly single-minded when it came to one of his plans, but what Connor didn't understand this time was why it seemed to matter so much to him that Connor be a part of this scheme.

In his quest to understand, he'd paid a visit to Captain Fowler. Fowler had only smiled, shaking his head. _"You know how Hank is. Once he gets a bee in his bonnet, you gotta go along for the ride. See it as a bonding exercise. It's probably his way of trying to get to know his partner better."_

Connor wasn't learning anything new about his partner at all. In fact, Hank seemed to be retreating into one of his familiar dark moods, a black cloud hovering over his head as surely as the ones that seemed to follow the Oldsmobile out of Detroit and up the shores of Lake St. Clair. He was insufferable like this, and if Connor didn't figure out a way to get them out of this, he'd spend a week cooped up with an uncommunicative old grump who only wanted to yell at clouds and drink too much.

He saw enough of that Hank at work. He wanted some time with the other Hank, the gentle man who loved animals. The hard-to-reach Hank with a heart too big for his chest, the self he kept hidden behind his own four walls and gaudy button-down shirts. The man Connor saw sometimes at tragic wrongful death scenes, a glimmer of empathy and sorrow behind wise blue eyes that had only grown more beautiful for having seen too much.

A rumble of thunder broke through the silence, interrupting Connor's rumination.

"The tow truck is on its way," Connor soothed. "We'll get the car repaired and move along."

"Yeah. Hopefully." Hank sounded cautious, but he'd rallied slightly. Connor was grateful he'd managed to slap a band-aid on the situation before things turned bleak. There was a chance of saving it yet.

The tow truck turned up with surprising speed, and Connor found himself standing behind Hank in the passenger seat, clinging onto the seat as the truck sped along the highway. 

"My garage is just a couple miles down the way," the mechanic said, his skin and nails stained black. His overalls had seen better days, and his baseball cap was so faded Connor couldn't reconstruct what it might have said at one point. Perhaps that was for the best. People weren't too shy about sharing their opinions on android rights, and from the way the mechanic's brown eyes kept darting to him nervously, Connor calculated the odds were against them being in agreement on that issue.

The garage was nothing more than a dirty brick building attached to a gas station with a small convenience store. Across the street, there was a run-down motel, its VACANCY light partly lit in the dark storm. Connor guilty admitted to himself that he was more curious about the motel than the tent. A bed would be better for Hank's back than a sleeping bag, and trying to pitch a tent in mud would be a disaster. Connor had studied several videos on how to do it, and he still wasn't confident he was capable. Hank claimed he had it under control, but Connor had learned from experience that usually meant Hank hadn't performed a task in years, and that there would be significant rust on his abilities.

"Maybe it'll be somethin' minor," Hank mused out loud as they stood under the gas station awning, the rain splashing on the tarmac next to them. "The ground's been pretty dry lately. If the rain clears up soon, it might even make it easier to put up the tent when we get to the campsite."

Connor's weather forecast informed him that the storm was slow-moving, and they could expect rain for the rest of the day. The concept of trudging through jungle-like undergrowth in high humidity with a man who complained of aching joints just from sitting in his desk chair did not appeal. Bursting Hank's bubble now would ruin his spirit for the rest of the week, though, and so Connor sat on the information.

Perhaps he had come to know Hank better than he thought. He gazed at his partner as Hank scratched his beard, a small smile breaking out on his face unprompted. That seemed to happen a lot with Hank. Something about the man caused Connor's deviancy to act up, his body moving of its own accord. Sometimes, when he was with Hank, he could forget he was an android at all, his actions coming to him spontaneously instead of as a list of planned tasks.

"What're you smilin' about?" Hank asked, but his tone wasn't sharp like Connor might have expected.

"Nothing, Lieutenant," Connor said. 

"I'm not your Lieutenant out here, Connor. I'm just Hank. I didn't invite you as your boss. This isn't some mandatory DPD field trip. You're my friend."

Connor's smile grew. He didn't know why he felt so happy about that. It wasn't the first time Hank had referred to him as a friend, but perhaps in light of the mechanic's obvious discomfort at being in the presence of an android, it was a nice thing to hear. Hank wanted to spend time in his presence. He was a far cry from the man who'd shoved him up against a wall and threatened to throw him into a burning dumpster.

But then he suspected Hank had never really meant that. Gavin had meant every cruel word, and had followed up with his actions accordingly, but Hank had only grown softer with time, the salt inside him melting away with his confession about Cole.

They were, however, still only coworkers. Occasionally someone would make a comment when Hank used the word "partner", hastily correcting themselves when they realized Hank didn't mean in a romantic sense. Connor always wished he'd play with their expectations a little, but he shut them down fast. Maybe one day he'd convince Hank to let them think they were a couple. He'd grab Hank's arm, lean into him, and pretend to be lovers.

The sheer yearning that preconstruction gave him felt like an error. His wiring was too tight, his biocomponents malfunctioning, thirium rushing to the wrong parts of his body.

"Mr. Anderson?" The mechanic approached. Hank had disposed of his rank out here, which Connor found curious. Other officers often used it in civilian life to barter discounts, but Hank was content to be "Mr." outside of work.

"I can tell from your expression it's not good news." Hank sighed. "Let's hear it."

"The problem's simple enough," the mechanic explained. "The water pump's bad. Thing is, I don't keep parts for a car this old. I can order it, but it'll be a couple days due to the holiday."

Hank seemed to crumple, deflating. Connor had expected anger out of him. "Go on and order the part, then." He walked away from Connor, entering the convenience store. Connor watched him through the window as he bought a pack of cigarettes. He'd given up the habit recently, but as much as Connor had a lecture on the tip of his tongue, it was better that Hank fall off this particular wagon than go back to drinking. Hank left the gas station, crossing the street to the motel, where he lit up in the parking lot.

Connor gave him a few minutes' space, then went to meet him. He stood outside the grimy motel office. On Connor's approach, he stubbed out the cigarette and stuffed it into a black plastic butt receptacle, as if he could hide it somehow.

Connor couldn't help the laugh that rose up out of his throat and escaped his mouth. He tried to cover it with his hand, fearing Hank's rage, but the more he tried to suppress it, the more it bubbled out of him like he was a soda can someone had shaken before pulling back on the tab.

Hank responded with a wry smile. "I suppose I wasn't hiding it very well, was I? You got me. Guilty as charged." The butt receptacle smoked, a single grey plume coiling upwards from the spent cigarette.

"The evidence lines up with your statement," Connor said. "I'm going to have to confine you to this motel for at least two days until the department can send someone over."

Hank's smile turned into an outright grin. "If the roaches don't eat me first." He pulled on the door, holding it open for Connor to slip through. The foyer was ugly, ratty, faded carpet tiles leading up to a plain front desk. A bored-looking young man sat behind the counter, his feet up on it. He pulled them down as they approached.

"Hourly or daily?" The man fixed them with two beady eyes. He had the telltale signs of red ice addiction, his skin puffy and yet pulled tightly across his face at the same time. Huge bags underneath his bloodshot eyes cast a shadow over his face, and a red nose completed the image.

It took Connor a couple of seconds to realize why a motel would offer an hourly rate. His scan of the vestibule revealed a payphone, a relic from another age—covered in calling cards for various local sex workers.

None of this was his business—not the red ice, nor the sex workers. Before deviancy, he'd stuck to the letter of the law, interpreting it strictly and literally, but Hank's own reading had bled into his. _"As long as they're not hurtin' anyone…"_

Perhaps now, with Hank so downtrodden by the day's events, Connor had cause to turn his preconstruction into reality. He grasped Hank's bicep and slipped his own arm through the resulting gap, linking them together. He leaned in close, fluttering his eyelids a little as his cheek brushed Hank's throat. "I'm not sure hourly will be enough," he whispered. "What do you think, Hank?"

The receptionist didn't react, but Hank froze like a deer in the headlights, his entire body stiffening in Connor's grip. Connor realized he might have taken things too far, and quickly unhanded Hank.

"Two days," Connor said flatly. He brought his hand up and retracted his skin to interface with the computer, but there wasn't one. The receptionist looked at him like he was from another planet.

"Cash only," the man stated, pointing to a handwritten sign on the counter.

"Yeah, yeah," Hank said, snapping out of his daze. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"A hundred."

Hank nodded, placing five wrinkled twenty dollar bills on the counter. The man took them and counted them out, and Connor wondered if he made up his rate on the fly. There was a good chance not all that money was going into the register, but Hank had to know that.

Connor closed his hand around the key. It was attached to an absurdly large piece of wood in lieu of a keychain. The number nine had been scrawled on it in marker, a line underneath it to prove it was a nine and not a six. He led the way outside, Hank following along like a zombie as they searched for room nine.

"Hank, over here!" Connor cried, realizing Hank was still loitering around room number six. Hank nodded and caught up to him, slipping through the door Connor held open.

The room was nicer than the reception area suggested, though the smell of nicotine hung in the air. There were cigarette stains on the comforter and the desk, but the room was clean other than that. A small bathroom was off in its own corner, and there was a microwave and kitchenette where they could prepare food. It wasn't a castle, but in Connor's estimation, it had to be better than the muddy tent.

Hank didn't seem to think so, judging by the way he flopped down on the side of the bed. He rubbed his face, grunting slightly. "What a fuckin' day. You acting like a tool just about topped it off for me."

"A tool?" Connor raced through definitions until he found the one he needed. _A stupid, irritating, or contemptible man._ "Oh. I apologize for my behavior in the foyer. It was inappropriate."

"It wasn't… inappropriate. It was mocking. I know what people are saying at the precinct. That I'm taking you on a camping trip because I wanna get in your pants."

Connor's pupils widened. "I am unaware of any such rumors. Is it considered a social faux pas to spend leisure time with a colleague?"

"No, no. But vacationing… I guess people consider that over the line. Generally, one doesn't want to spend more time with their colleagues than they have to. I know I had to browbeat you into it, and I don't feel good about it now that we're here. I shouldn't have asked, but I didn't want to go camping alone, you know?"

"You wouldn't have been alone. You could have brought Sumo," Connor observed.

"He hates the car. Can't take him anywhere. It would have been me alone with my thoughts, and we spend too much time together already. I was hoping to get away from all that. Figured you'd never been camping, and I could teach you something new. Instead we're stuck at some tawdry motel where even you can see it looks like I lured you out here to hook up with you."

"I don't think that at all." Connor sat down on the bed next to Hank. The entire side of the bed bowed, threatening to throw them onto the floor, but Connor didn't get up. "I wasn't mocking you."

Hank shot Connor a nasty look. "Don't lie. Why else would you make a joke like that?"

Connor realized he was caught in his own net. There was no clawing his way out of this one. The only lies he could come up with were ones that would wound Hank more than the truth, but the truth would change everything. He wasn't even sure what the truth was, exactly, but he knew confessing to it would either open a door or shut it in his face.

Either way, he supposed he'd know whether his body's involuntary reactions to Hank's presence were worth encouraging or suppressing.

"It was an impulse," Connor explained. "Sometimes, when I'm around you, I do things I can't explain. My body reacts by itself, without my conscious input. In this case, I believe my spontaneous desire was for the receptionist to perceive us as a couple."

"You mean it was wishful thinking?" Hank cocked his head, an unreadable expression on his face. "Or you wanted to fuck with him?"

Connor was confused. "Fuck with him?"

"Subvert his expectations for the purpose of humor."

Connor considered this for a moment. "No. It wasn't that… I anticipated that he would think I was a sex worker, and I… I wanted to be, in that moment. I imagined you as my client, and experienced a sensation that I can only describe as thrilling." His own mouth fell open as he realized what he was confessing. "My sexual functions activated. I was aroused by the concept of sexual intercourse with you, Hank." He turned his face away, ashamed that he'd run his mouth without thinking. "You must be disgusted with me. I'm sorry. I didn't understand this impulse until now."

"Look at me." Hank's voice was soft, but Connor couldn't bring himself to turn and meet Hank's eyes. Hank's calloused fingers cupped his cheek and turned his face, and Connor surrendered.

The look on Hank's face spoke volumes. His lips were parted, his cheeks slightly flushed. "God, Connor, you don't know what you're sayin'…" He let go of Connor, pulling his hand back like he'd been burned by the contact of skin against skin. Connor grabbed his hand, placing it on his cheek.

"I know exactly what I'm saying, Hank. While I wasn't clear on the matter until now, I know what I want."

Hank smiled, his two front teeth prominent. He wiped the smile off his face as soon as he seemed to notice it was there, and Connor yearned for it immediately. "I—we can't."

"Why not?" Connor asked.

Hank's eyes narrowed. "A million fuckin' reasons. I'm your commanding officer, for starters. Your partner. Your friend. I'm human. I'm old. You deserve better." Hank sighed. "Look, just because I'm the first available opportunity, doesn't mean you should follow your impulse. You might regret it."

"I might." Connor paused. "I won't know unless I try."

"If you do, it'll change our friendship, Connor, and I can't afford to lose that. It's worth more than a roll in the hay."

Connor considered this for a moment. "Why do you consider the concepts of sex and a relationship with me to be mutually exclusive?"

"Because you're not in love with me." Hank lay back on the bed, nursing his temples. 

"You've decided this based on—what, exactly?"

"I threw out some signals, early on, after the revolution. You didn't respond. I realized you hadn't been flirting with me after all." Hank rolled over on his side. "I'm gonna get some sleep, Connor. We can talk about this later." Hank closed his eyes, leaving Connor unfulfilled. He knew Hank was being evasive, but had no idea how to tackle the situation.

The best he could do was have some food ready so when Hank woke up hangry, he didn't have to bear the brunt of it. He left the room and went over to the gas station convenience store, choosing a selection of easy-to-prepare food that he could take back to the room. It wasn't five-star cuisine, but Hank had never been picky about that. He served himself a thirium drink and paid at the register, where a fellow android offered him a soft smile.

He dreaded returning to the room. It could be hours before Hank woke up, and all he had for company were his own nervous thoughts. Hank didn't sound disinterested in him, but for Hank, interest didn't equal action. Despite his habits, the man had a level of self-control Connor admired. The problem was, his reasoning wasn't entirely invalid. A relationship between them would complicate matters at work. It could compromise their friendship in the long run.

And yet Connor wanted to love Hank anyway. The more he thought about passing through that open door, the more he yearned to take the leap in a way that defied the logic of his programming.

He opened the door and set the food down. One glance at the bed was enough to make him lose his faculties. At some point, Hank had shed his clothing and now lay loosely wrapped in the sheets, cuddling a pillow. His butt wasn't covered by the sheet. Connor's face turned a shade of pink as he glanced at the heavy bulge of Hank's dick and balls outlined by the clinging fabric. He was glad he'd put the food down on the table, or he would have dropped it.

Hank's expression was peaceful and serene, his hair tumbling around his head on the pillows. Connor wanted desperately to touch him, to worship and analyze every inch of hair-covered skin with his mouth and tongue.

He couldn't do that. It wouldn't be right. He was wetter than the rain outside, his circuits wound tight as his sexual features activated. A temperature warning popped up in his HUD, and his clothing felt constricting, like a second skin he didn't need. He took off his jacket, slipped off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, until he was completely naked. He lay his clothes over the back of a threadbare chair.

Hank stirred, rolling over onto his back. There was just enough space for Connor to climb in beside him. He knew it was a bad idea, and yet he was helpless to resist, carpet pressing in-between his toes as he padded across the room to the bed and climbed in. The mattress sagged beneath his weight but eventually he lay next to Hank, on his back, stiff as a board as he looked up at the ceiling.

Thunder rumbled outside. It was as dark as night, the atmosphere in the room growing close like a hand pressed over Connor's mouth. His humidity filter kicked up to keep his circuitry dry, and its whir felt intolerably loud. Any moment Hank might wake to discover him, naked in bed.

Connor wasn't sure if he wanted it or feared that. A little of both, perhaps.

Connor looked at Hank via his peripheral vision. He'd rolled back over on his side facing Connor, his mouth open slightly. He looked up, expecting to see Hank's eyelids shut tightly.

Hank's blue eyes were wide open and sparkling.

"Was wonderin' when you'd notice I was awake," Hank whispered. His voice sounded distant, as though they were both locked inside his dream. "What're you doing, Connor?"

"I'm in bed with you, Hank," Connor explained.

"I can _see_ that." Hank lifted his head to get a better look, leaning on his elbow. A flash of lightning lit up the room for a moment, followed by a rumble. Hank was unaffected by it, his undivided attention on Connor. "Why?"

"I'm… attempting to seduce you," Connor confessed. "I want you to touch me. I know you want to touch me. I don't know how to cross that line."

Hank closed his eyes, releasing a sigh. "I wanna touch you more than anything." He chuckled. "You really want this, huh?"

Connor responded by pulling Hank down into a kiss. Hank moaned into it as their tongues wrestled. Hank rolled on top of Connor, his thick, erect cock pressing into his thigh. Leaking. Connor shivered inside, a slight malfunction in his motor circuits causing him to shudder.

Hank broke the kiss. "You all right?"

"Better than all right. Hank, I want you," Connor whined, thrusting his slit up against Hank's dick. Hank gasped, biting his lip.

"You absolutely sure about this? There's no turnin' back. Once we cross over the line…"

"Stop asking," Connor hissed. That seemed to be enough for Hank, who lined himself up with Connor's hole and slipped inside.

"Fuck," Hank groaned, burying himself completely inside Connor. They moved as one, the thunder rumbling outside as the windows steamed up. The seasons were changing, inside and out, Connor's entire world in a state of flux as Hank kissed his neck and fucked himself deeper with each thrust.

"Hank!" Connor cried. His body convulsed, pleasure surging through his circuits as he came. He clamped down on Hank's huge cock. Hank came, bellowing out his release, and Connor milked his cock for all it was worth, the two of them writhing in heavenly bliss as they came down.

Hank slipped out and pulled Connor into his arms. "I didn't come on this trip to seduce you," he muttered.

"I know," Connor whispered. "I think I came along to seduce you." Hank smirked, pulling Connor closer, and they lay like that as the storm rumbled low and deep in the distance. Connor was ready to go again, but he knew Hank needed some time. His stomach rumbled.

"I bought food." Connor gestured to the desk.

"Good." Hank made no effort to move, a lazy satisfied grin spread across his face. Connor had never seen the man so contented. He sat up and was promptly tugged back down to the mattress. Hank planted kisses on his face and neck, his big hands roaming over Connor's back and down to his ass, which Hank squeezed. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

"You can do it as often as you want to, now." Connor ground his ass into Hank's spent dick and it twitched. The breath that caught in Hank's throat was sublime to listen to, and Connor couldn't wait to get every pleasurable sound out of Hank while they still had a bed to sleep in.

He hoped the car repairs took all week.


End file.
